


Personal Espionage

by kathierif_fic



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathierif_fic/pseuds/kathierif_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce suspects someone is spying on him, so he investigates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Espionage

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be for the Infinite-Worlds-alternate-universes-challenge, at least that was for what I tried to write something when I sat down to write. 
> 
> However, this came out, and reading comprehension apparently is not exactly my forte at the moment? 
> 
> Oops.

“Are you spying on me?” Bruce asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Clint shook his head without looking up from the TV. “I’m not a spy,” he replied, “I’m a sniper. There’s a difference, Doc - I’m your guy for long-range eliminations, not espionage.” He tilted his head to the side. “I mean, I could probably find you someone for that, but myself, not so much. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Bruce replied, his lips twitching into a smile. “Just curious, is all.” He pushed a cup of coffee toward him, just the way he knew Clint took it, and got up to return to his lab. When he walked past Clint, he bent over and dropped a brief but affectionate kiss into his hair.

He didn’t mention it again.

~~

“Are you spying on me?” Bruce asked sleepily and dragged a warm, satisfied hand over Natasha’s bare back.

Natasha lifted her head from his chest. Her hair was tousled, and Bruce reached out gently and brushed the strands back behind her ear.

“Not particularly,” she murmured quietly. “Unless Nick Fury asks me to.”

“Did he? I mean, are you, right now?” Bruce asked bluntly. His muscles tensed slightly, but Natasha just relaxed and tucked her head back under his chin.

“No,” she simply said. “Why, are you feeling watched?”

“Constantly,” Bruce said, dry like the desert, before grinning at her and pulling the sheet up to Natasha’s shoulders.

He kissed the delicate skin at the back of her neck and it was enough to distract her into dropping the topic for now.

~~

“Heimdall watches everything, you said?” Bruce asked and dropped his head back to rest against Thor’s strong shoulder.

Thor slid his palms up Bruce’s chest, tugging at his chest hair and tweaking his nipples teasingly.

“He does,” he grumbled quietly, his voice like distant thunder. He pressed his open mouth to Bruce’s shoulder while his hands moved back to the sharp cut of Bruce’s hips.

“You ever ask him to look for anything in particular?” Bruce asked before groaning helplessly.

“Yes,” Thor freely admitted. “I did so in the past. I asked Heimdall to look for Jane Foster when I first returned to Asgard from here, and again when I brought Loki home. I also asked him to look out for the Avengers then, to make sure you all were unharmed from the repercussions of Loki’s actions.” He bowed his head briefly, his stubble scratching pleasantly against Bruce’s shoulder. “However, I have not talked to Heimdall in a long time.”

His soft, warm lips touched Bruce’s shoulder again. “Should you wish to ask Heimdall to look for something in particular, I would be honored to do so on your behalf.”

Bruce shifted and twisted his head to kiss Thor deeply. “No,” he said. “It’s okay. Just keep going?”

“Gladly,” Thor promised, and did.

~~

“Did you use JARVIS to spy on me?” Bruce asked uncomfortably. 

Tony blinked at him before frowning and putting down his phone.

“Honestly, do you think I need JARVIS for that?” he asked back. “Also, why should I spy on you, you work in my labs, if I want something, I just walk in and ask. Honestly, Bruce.”

Bruce glared, and Tony hunched his shoulders defensively. “Okay, I send Pep,” he relented. “She’s much better at this anyway.”

“So, you didn’t spy on me?” Bruce asked again, to assure himself they were on the same page.

Tony slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. He smelled like motor oil and expensive cologne, the combination by now familiar and soothing. Almost against his will, Bruce found his shoulders relaxing slightly. Tony had had this effect on him almost from the beginning, and Bruce hadn’t asked many questions and had simply accepted Tony’s particular brand of fearless friendliness toward him and the Other Guy, pathetically grateful to be treated like a human being instead of a monster by someone who _knew_.

“I swear I didn’t,” Tony murmured, his face pressed close to Bruce’s. “Want my help trying to find out who does?”

Bruce was tempted, but after a long moment, he simply brought his arm up and wrapped it around Tony, pulling him in a brief, one-armed sideways hug.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll figure it out myself. Why don’t you explain to me again how you’re planning to keep the Other Guy from destroying your tower?”

“Our tower,” Tony corrected, but he pulled Bruce toward the center of the room while already calling out orders to JARVIS.

~~

“Why are you spying on me?” Bruce asked sharply.

Steve blushed a dark shade of red. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. He looked so miserable that Bruce almost felt sorry for ambushing him like this, but he’d had more than enough from the uncomfortable feeling of eyes following him everywhere, watching his every step and making him feel as if they were silently judging him. It set his teeth on edge and reminded him too much of his time on the run from the military.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Steve mumbled, taking a small step closer to Bruce, who was armed with a wooden spoon – and the knowledge of having the Other Guy just beyond his skin. 

Steve did not deny it, Bruce noticed, and he sighed and sat down next to Steve, the spoon dangling from his fingers and almost forgotten. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve asked with a hopeful expression.

Bruce took a deep, cleansing breath. “Tell me about it,” he asked. “Why’d you do it.”

Steve’s blush darkened, and he ducked his head and hunched his shoulders up, but despite the puppy dog eyes, Bruce was not in the mood to let him get away with it, and after a long moment of fidgeting and mumbling, Steve told him.

It was, Bruce thought later, not the reason he’d expected, but at the same time, it made a startling amount of sense.

~~

Bruce woke slowly.

Tony had wrapped himself into the blankets again and was doing his best starfish impression, his head turned toward Bruce and his face slack in sleep. He looked ridiculously beautiful, Bruce thought when he turned his head that way, despite the fact that he was no God and no supersoldier; but the way his lashes brushed against his cheeks made something in Bruce’s chest flutter and clench.

Natasha was curled up against Bruce’s other side, one of her legs pinning his hips to the mattress and one of her hands pushed under her pillow. She looked tiny in sleep, especially with Clint plastered to her back and Thor’s wide hand resting on her hip.

Bruce could only see bits and pieces of Clint and Thor, but it was obvious they were still asleep.

He frowned.

The soft scratch of pencil against paper stopped when Bruce lifted his head, and Steve leaned into his line of vision with a guilty expression on his face.

“Hey,” he whispered, and Steve gave him a sweet smile. Paper rustled, and Bruce frowned suspiciously. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Steve admitted, his voice low and rough, and crawled back onto the mattress, careful of Tony’s sprawled limbs when he leaned over to brush his mouth against Bruce’s. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Bruce exhaled softly. “You did it again,” he murmured after a while. “Didn’t you?”

“Watching you? Yes,” Steve admitted softly. “I couldn’t sleep, and I thought…” He trailed off, and Bruce waited for a moment, enjoying the peace and closeness of his team around him while Steve tried to get his thoughts in order. “You looked so swell…so peaceful. I couldn’t…couldn’t stop.”

“It’s okay,” he finally decided. He was warm and comfortable, the feeling of eyes on him for once not making him feel itchy, but loved and cherished and _safe_. “Can I see?”

Steve wormed his way between Bruce and Tony and turned to lie on his back, his head on the same pillow as Bruce’s, and his sketchpad in his hands. There was graphite smeared across his fingers, but when he opened the book and leafed through the pages, Bruce’s breath caught in his chest at the drawings, sketches and studies of the Avengers, all of them, in various situations and positions around the Tower, during press conferences and interviews, and while fighting bad guys.

And there, on the last page, was the picture Steve had been working on when Bruce had woken up. It was unfinished, quick pencil lines and incomplete shading, but it was them, the Avengers, curled around each other like a pile of puppies, all of them relaxed and trusting each other with their lives and sleeping, and even in its unfinished state, it spoke of the love between the Avengers and of Steve’s talent as an artist.

Bruce smiled and twisted his head to the side, to rest against Steve’s arm.

“You know,” he murmured just as Tony turned in his sleep and curled against Steve’s other side, effectively trapping him between them, “I think, just this once, I can forgive you for the spying.”


End file.
